


Pillow Talk

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Visiting Hours [3]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Joker- after having received visits from both his Bat and Bruce Wayne- has put the two together, and decided it was time to check out of Arkham early and pay the sweet playboy a little visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

It was dark when slender, gloved hands popped open the door, leading to the entrance room of Bruce Wayne’s penthouse. Grinning with painted lips, the Joker sauntered over to the elevator he saw, pressing the up arrow. _Far too easy_.

He tapped purple leather gloved fingers against the wall, scuffing his shoes on the floor as he waited. He didn’t doubt there was a security camera watching him- but he did doubt that there was someone watching it currently. It was past midnight- not time for the Bat to get back yet. And that butler he’d heard about? He wasn’t too worried about him.

The doors opened and he stepped on, coat flowing around him like a purple wind. It felt good to have some _color_ again. He had to admit that doctor- Harleen, Harley, silly little thing- kept her word when she said she could get him to the Narrows and back to Wayne’s penthouse before two AM, when they had barely stepped out of the Asylum at midnight- just as the guards were changing.

He hit a button, the star making him assume it must be an important floor, and waited. He felt good, he felt _alive_ , colorful, face freshly painted, hair dyed, cut, curls slicked back and charming. Almost as if he was expecting a date to be waiting at the end of the upward tunnel.

Almost accurate.

The elevator opened and he stepped out into the dark penthouse. He stood, listened, couldn’t hear footsteps or breathing or _anything_. Perhaps he’d lucked out and the butler was asleep.

A skip in his step, he walked around for a bit, running fingers over furniture and walls, before he settled on the parlor. Carefully setting down the few items he’d been carrying under his arm on the coffee table, he settled into a chair set of in the corner in the shadows and waited.

It had to be approaching four AM when the elevator opened again, a tired body stepping off it and walking in the dark, heart set on a soft bed and a few good hours of sleep for a weary body. Stepping into the parlor, he stopped not a few feet in, eyes on the table. Walking slowly in the dark, he reached and stooped down, fingers running over the soft black fabric of his sweater- folded sweetly with a little playing card and a single rose lying on it. Even in the dark he recognized the unmarked joker card, and flipping it over read silently,

‘Thanks for keeping me warm Batsy, xoxo’

He dropped the card, looking around frantically, and the Joker couldn’t contain himself then. He giggled, standing up, and Bruce’s head whipped towards him in the dark.

“Joker.” It was deep, guttural- the Bat’s voice, not little Bruce. Grinning, the Joker walked around the room, fingers trailing along the curtains to one large window before he ripped them open, moonlight flooding the room in an ethereal milky blue.

“ _Hello_ sugar,” he said, smiling. “I’ve missed you so, Bats.”

“How-“

“Did I figure it out? Why, Brucie baby, it was easy. Really, for someone who has read my file and spoken to _oh-so_ many doctors about me, I thought you’d expect with my wonderful sensory perception and memory that someday, I’d. Know.” He _tisked_ then advanced, curving around the lush couch and walking to Bruce’s side. He reached out, buried his hand in the man’s hair and tugged him close, chests bumping as he tilted the man’s head back and leaned down, lips hovering over his neck and he ran over the expanse of sweet skin- smelling slightly chemically from the Kevlar, but musky and delicious like Bruce himself. “I could smell the Bat all over you.”

Bruce grimaced, but the Joker noted he didn’t tug away. Oh, that was a good sign. _Such a good sign_.

“That’s what you get for being _nice_ Brucie.” He kissed his jawbone, left a red smudge against Bruce’s skin. Bruce;s breath escaped him, and the Joker smirked and kissed that skin again. “Mmmm, but I can’t scold you, Batsy. I truly enjoyed your... _kindness_.” He reached around, grabbed Bruce’s ass, grinning wickedly as his hand met heat and the soft fabric of sweatpants. His Bat was so cozy right now- ready to turn in. Perhaps he’d stay later than he intended and enjoy that warm body wrapped around him for a few winks of aware sleep.

_Mmm. Delightful._

“I have to give you, ah, credit, cupcake- I didn’t expect the big bad Bat to masquerade as a playboy by day. Maybe a bit too _flashy_ for you.” His hand released flesh and trailed up to stroke Bruce’s lower back, the hand in his hair loosening. “But what really _blows my mind_ , sugar, is that little visit you paid me the other day. Why, were you feeling bad after being so _rough_ with me?”

Teeth met neck and Bruce cried out, felt his skin give to a few teeth, and clutched at the man’s shirt- not wanting to escape it, damned as it may be. He clung and bled and the madman lapped at the crimson drops that marred his pretty skin.

“Y-yes,” Bruce stammered, tilting his head so that probing tongue could lap at these new wounds easier. “More so about how they were treating you.”

The Joker froze, pulling back, acidic eyes dropping dark and serious- his mouth a smooth line.

“I mean, you’re insane-“

“I’m no-t,” the Joker said, and Bruce swallowed the lump in his throat.

“- You’re dangerous, at least. I know they needed to lock you up. But...but they didn’t even feed you, dammit. I saw all the reports when I was leaving. And when I came back- you were _ice_. They were trying to kill you.”

“Ah, shouldn’t that please the big bad Bat, though? Or is it, ah, unfair if someone else gets to do it? I know you want to, deep down under that one silly, pathetic rule of yours.”

“It just wasn’t right.” Bruce tried to straighten up, to pull away, but the Joker meshed their chests together again, held him still. Bruce wriggled, gasping at the friction between the two. “I don’t want you _dead_. I just want...want...”

_Yess. Say it, Brucie._ “What do you want, sugar?”

“You.” It came as a breath, barely a word, and the Joker was kissing his mouth a moment later, pressing that tongue into his mouth- tasting sharp and irony, lips and tongue laced with Bruce’s blood. The playboy pushed into him, against him, held on and clutched and opened up. His inner Bat screamed at him that this was not the way to be with the Joker- for he knew he had to be, the urge, the fire in his blood ran too hot, too rampant, ever since he gave himself a taste- he had to dominate, to push and part and own. But he was succumbing, he was giving- and he was on fire remembering the way the Joker opened his body and filled him so, took control from him and left him at his mercy.

He’d wanted it ever since he left, silently shaking from that cell, that second visit. He wanted the man to own him.

The Joker’s hands were slipping under his t-shirt, running over his toned stomach- smooth in that purple leather. Bruce wanted flesh on flesh. He mewled, whimpered into that mouth, and the Joker released him- just for a moment- so he could tear the t-shirt over his head and toss it off into the dark. Smirking, the painted man gave his silent approval and tore one glove off with his teeth, hand warm against Bruce’s skin-

Silently, the playboy was happy to have fire under that pale skin, and not the ice he’d found before.

Bruce reached for the other hand, holding the wrist with one as he used the other to pull the remaining glove off. He guided the hand to his mouth, kissed the fingertips, pulled one into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, watched the way the Joker’s eyes widened, his lips curving. He did it to another one, before the man was turning him, pushing him past the coffee table and onto the couch. He crouched down, grasped Bruce’s pants and tugged at the waist, guiding them off.

The clown was more than pleasantly surprised to find Bruce had nothing on underneath. He licked his lips when Bruce’s cock bounced free- hard already- and chucking the pants into the dark, he crawled up those legs and touched his painted lips to the head, kissing softly before he took it in his mouth. Bruce gasped, arched, but couldn’t move his head- eyes fixated, wanting to see every movement. Wide eyed he stared as the Joker swallowed him down, bobbing his head in a gentle rhythm as his hands gripped onto those thighs, his own sex aching and pulsing in his pants.

He felt like he was suffocating in his suit, but stopping to undress meant stopping this- and the saltiness in his mouth was so divine he dared not leave. The way Bruce’s hips moved gently with him even more so.

“Nnn, _fuck_ ,” Bruce gasped, finally tilting his head back and letting it rest on the couch. His hands fisted in the cushions as he felt his body tightening. He was almost ashamed at how quickly he’d been brought up to high. “C-careful, or-“

His words cut out when one scarred, bare hand cupped his balls, squeezing gently- as that pale throat opened up and took him, and suddenly Bruce was spiraling down down down, crying out and thrusting up and clutching at the couch, heat exploding down the Joker’s throat in bitter waves.

Bruce fell back- sank into the couch as he was released, as the Joker sat back on his hunches and licked his smudged lips and grinned _oh-so_ wickedly.

He nearly slithered up Bruce’s body- coming face to face with him as he knelt over his lap, hands resting on either side of his head, pressing into the couch. Bruce looked at him through heavy lids, and when the man kissed him, pressed into his mouth with a bitter coated tongue, he thought not even once of refusing. He opened and accepted and loved it, arms reaching up around his lithe waist, clinging to his purple coat, holding on for dear life.

“You’re so _broken_ ,” the Joker mused against his lips. “That suit really _is_ all that holds you together, sugar.”

“Maybe you just break me,” Bruce murmured, feeling oddly warm and contant with the bundle of nerves straddling his naked hips, with the bitter and sweet taste on his lips and tongue. The Joker smiled at that, leaning in and resting his forehead against the playboy’s.

“Careful Brucie- you’re getting _sentimental_ on me.” He nipped his lower lip playfully, before one hand reached between them, fondled Bruce’s soft, still slick sex gently. Bruce squirmed, gasped, and the painted man grinned. “Did you think we were done, Batsy dar- _ling_? Oh, _nonononono_ , we’re faaaaar from done, sugar.” He stroked and toyed and felt the flesh come to life again under his hand. _Good, Bats has got some spunk in him._

Bruce was squirming around, the Joker’s too almost too much on his flesh, his nerves still buzzing and exceptionally sensitive. The clown chuckled and ceased his hand, instead choosing to bury his hands in Bruce’s hair and kiss him again. Bruce’s hands fluttered along the Joker’s chest, opening his vest without even realizing it- fingers toying with buttons as his tongue was teased when he felt the Joker pulling back and giggling.

“Ah Bats, I didn’t even have to ask you. It’s like you’re in my hea-d.” Bruce saw the pale skin he’s exposed- three buttons popped open on the man’s green shirt- and blushed. The color was so cute that the Joker couldn’t help but giggle. “Don’t stop sugar,” he soothed, stroking fingers through Bruce’s hair. “I can’t very well have much _fun_ fully dressed, ah, now can I?”

Bruce shook his head, continued unbuttoning until the shirt was open. The Joker shrugged everything off and let it fall to the floor behind him- not even a moment later Bruce was reaching for him, one arm around his chest, clutching onto his back, the other hand hand sinking into his slicked back hair, pulling him back for a heated kiss. The Joker obliged him, enjoying the fact that Bruce quite obviously _wanted_ him more than he expected. Far more.

His own hands were fumbling with his pants, trying to open them. He was forced to stand to free himself, to kick off shoes and socks and untangling from the fabric until he was naked as Bruce. The playboy was staring, not having got much of a look at the man during either of their trysts.

The moonlight bathed him in a pale blue- made him seem ghostly. He cocked his head, watching Bruce’s eyes rove over him eagerly, until he couldn’t take it any longer. He stepped closer, tangling his fingers in Bruce’s hair, dragging his face out to his cock, standing at attention and weeping from desire.

“Your turn,” he nearly growled, and Bruce took the hint- though he was unsure exactly how to go about it. He reached out, grasped the Joker’s curved hip and let his tongue trace along the head of his cock, down beneath it and along the shaft. The painted man shivered, breath growing shorter. “Good,” he purred, and Bruce traced back up, before taking the head into his mouth and suckling gently.

His touches were sweeter, gentler- _far_ gentler- than any of the Joker’s past partners, and it was almost too much. He didn’t know what he was doing, the Joker could tell by how he’d hesitate- and that was possibly the sweetest part of all.

“Deeper,” he muttered in a husky whisper, and Bruce looked up at him as he tried to swallow- the image enough to make the Joker groan and his knees threaten to buckle.

He tipped his head back, deciding it’d be safer- lest he accidentally give in before he finished his fun- and memorized the feel of Bruce’s mouth, his tongue- the wet heat the engulfed him. Bruce was whimpering as he moved, arousal now pressing up to his stomach and begging for the hand he had tried to escape minutes earlier.

Eyes still closed, the Joker heard the rustling of skin on skin, and gnawed on his lower lip- knowing without seeing. _Oh, he is too much._

He pushed Bruce back gently, back into the couch, freed himself and finally looked down. Bruce watching, he sucked on two of his fingers, then leaned over him, kissing him as he slid one down beneath Bruce, pressing it into him. The man wriggled, exhaled against the Joker’s scarred lips, and then another was in him, both moving, spreading, opening him carefully. Bruce tipped his head back and the Joker was kissing his neck, nipping at skin, tongue tracing the pulse under his flesh.

He curled his fingers, hit that spot deep inside Bruce, and the man cried out, reaching for the Joker, clinging to him desperately. Grinning, the Joker did it again, and again, the pleasure easing Bruce’s muscles, relaxing him. The Joker pulled back after another hit, grabbed Bruce’s legs and yanked him down, spreading them and pressing the head of his cock against his opening.

“Open for me, Brucie baby,” he rasped, and then he was pushing inside, and Bruce was biting his own lip, hurting and pulsing with joy and wanting to clutch onto the man but unable to reach. He went for the cushions instead, kneading them as the Joker shoved himself fully inside and paused- mind and body reeling from the tight heat, the way Bruce’s body clutched him so exquisitely.

He pulled back and thrust once, twice, reached for Bruce and realized the angle didn’t allow him to hold the man against him- and the realization that that actually bothered him made the Joker worry for a moment. Regardless, he pulled out and shoved Bruce over, moving him so his back rested on the arm of the couch, and climbed on between his legs.

Bruce looked at him, confused, and as the Joker spread his legs and shoved back inside him, he said rather matter-of-factly,

“I couldn’t hold you that way.”

The words weren’t what he meant to say- and he _never_ misspoke. He’d meant to say he couldn’t reach Bruce- couldn’t touch that skin and torment that mouth how he wanted. _Hold him? What am I now- a woman?_

The words seemed to break Bruce though. He reached for the man and clung to him as the Joker’s hips rolled, as he plunged in and out of that heat. He buried his face into the pale man’s neck and kissed and whimpered, and the Joker was reminded that without the suit Bruce was just a broken man.

Bruce was pleading, he realized, the words a babble. The Joker pushed him back, looked at him, and his cheeks tinged pink as he murmured,

“H-harder, _please_. Like b-before.”

The Joker felt his cock twitch inside Bruce, and then he was thrusting into him with abandon, clutching the man to him and stroking hair and his back and shoulders, groaning through gritting teeth with Bruce’s cries. The playboy squirmed and looked up, just managing to reach his lips and kiss him, his cheeks wet with tears from the sheer pleasure of it all-

Especially when the Joker wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked in time with his wild thrusts. He felt Bruce’s lips twitch, quiver, and he knew then that it was nearly over. He squeezed, stroked, thrust- and then Bruce was crying out, breaking the kiss to nearly howl his pleasure, head tipping back, throat exposed. The Joker leaned into it as the man’s muscles milked his cock, kissed and pressed his lips to that skin to muffle his own cries, his need releasing into Bruce as he shook and quivered at the tail end of his high.

The two collapsed onto the couch, Bruce tangling his legs with the Joker and kissing him lazily, stroking his shoulders and arms. The Joker let him- so used to sex being over right after orgasm that he didn’t have the wits about him to stop him-

Which was unlike, and not good for, the Joker.

He kissed Bruce back, explored his mouth, loved the little mewls he was still getting. The playboy seemed to be trying to speak, but the mesh and movement of lips distorted his words.

“Hmmm?” the Joker asked, toying with some dark brown hair.

“Will you come back?” The painted man raised an eyebrow- truthfully, he hadn’t thought that far- he hadn’t even thought of leaving yet. But he knew he’d _have_ to, as much as he didn’t want to.

“Depends, sugar,” he said, kissing the tip of Bruce’s nose. “Will you be out hunting me?”

Bruce hesitated, and then whispered, “yes.”

“And if you catch me? What will my big bad Bat do then?” Bruce didn’t speak, and the Joker rested his forehead against the playboy’s, smiling all the while. “I think if the Bat catches me, he should _fuck_ me senseless again. This time maybe on the rooftop- or in an alley. Brick feels delicious against bare skin, cupcake.” His hand was trailing along Bruce’s side, nails teasing. “But if _I_ catch my Bat off guard- I get him. All night, just. Like. This.”

Bruce grinned- a bit of his Bat showing, the Joker mused, and wrapped his arms around the man, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Deal,” Bruce said, “but don’t blow up the whole city and make me regret not sending you back to Arkham.”

The Joker chuckled. “Mmm, your pillow talk is so _serious_ sugar, lighten up a bit. Without the city, I wouldn’t have a playground.” He pecked Bruce’s lips, before untangling from him and slowly dressing himself in the growing light. Bruce watched, liked the movements of those nimble fingers as they buttoned and fastened and straightened. When the Joker was completely dressed, he grabbed the rose he’d left on the coffee table and tossed it onto Bruce- watching the way the red petals and dark stem contrasted against his tight skin.

“I’ll expect you tonight, Bats,” he said, walking away. He stopped at the hallway, looking back with those excited green eyes. “Don’t let me down, sugar.”

And then he was gone, and Bruce was left to eagerly ponder if the Bat would chase or wait that night- if he’d open himself for the Joker, or demand the same pleasure of that tight, pale body.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's the end of this series! Hope everyone enjoyed the senseless porn :)


End file.
